Mr Fazey sighed. “Very well, I have to say I am very disa–”
Before Mr Fazey could continue with his sentence, Miss Primrose snatched the megaphone from his hand – whilst still holding her handkerchief firmly on her nose with the other hand.
“As far as I’m concerned, you are all guilty! All of you liars, all criminals, all villains, all gangsters, all members of the mafia – all rotten little worms! But I have to make an example out of one of you. The true culprit, the criminal mastermind that you elected… you!” she screamed as she pointed in Oscar’s direction.
“You!” she growled as she pushed the megaphone towards Mr Fazey and started to march.
Oscar took a large gulp. He was ready to take responsibility. He was kind of glad the others weren’t getting in trouble. After all it was his idea.
“You!” Miss Primrose repeatedly grunted as she stepped closer and closer to Oscar.
Oscar closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He wasn’t sure what his punishment would be – but he was certain it was going to be far from pleasant.
Shockingly however, when Oscar opened his eyes, Miss Primrose had marched past both him and Emma. Down the line was Mikey who was wobbling with fear as Miss Primrose stood directly in front of him.
“Well boy, do you have anything to say?” Miss Primrose asked as she towered above Mikey.
“Well. I uh–” Mikey muttered before being immediately cut off by Miss Primrose.
“Of course you don’t have anything to say. Because there is nothing to say is there? Did you really think someone as pathetic as you could out-match me? Of course not. Because you are a child, and children are idiots! Hooligans! So now you boy – yes you – must pay the price. Your vulgar smelling, stinky bottom-belching, bum-bazooking, steam spitting fart ruined my stock. The frog’s eyes, the rotten fried eggs, the snakes, the shrimps, the sour snails and your personal favourites the worms, have all gone bad! You are going to eat every last one of those sweets you ruined, you hear me boy? Every last frog’s eye, every rotten fried egg, every last snake, every shrivelled shrimp, every sour snail and every last worm! Do you understand me?” Miss Primrose bellowed as she grabbed Mikey and started to drag him in Mr Fazey’s direction.
Oscar’s blood boiled – he wasn’t going to stand for it.
“You can’t do that!” he yelled. “He’ll be sick. We all know what those sweets really are! He’ll never want to step inside a sweet shop again!”
“Well he should have thought of that before he made a pact with Satan and decided to fart in my shop!” screamed Miss Primrose as she glared intensely at Oscar. A horrible smirk appeared on her face before she continued dragging Mikey away.
Oscar and Emma watched as Mikey was guided to the head’s office.
“What are we going to do?” Emma asked.
“Tonight, we are getting into that sweet shop and looking for whatever clues we can. Miss Primrose is up to something and we are going to find out exactly what that is,” replied Oscar.
9
THAT NIGHT THE GANG planned to break into the sweet shop, determined to find any shred of information that would reveal what Miss Primrose was up to. Emma insisted they all wore black to blend in with the darkness. There was Emma covered head to toe in black, she even wore black nail varnish. Reece’s effort wasn’t quite as committed since he turned up in his new luminescent pair of trainers.
“You sure this is a good idea?” muttered Reece as the group stared at the sweet shop.
“Trust me. It’s fine,” answered Oscar.
“I’m not sure the police would agree,” sighed Reece.
“I’m more worried about the smell in there!” Ishy whispered. “This is like suicide!”
“Face it,” Emma butted in bluntly. “Although that stink bomb combined with Mikey’s revolting fart was rather disgusting – it clearly didn’t live up to our expectations; we will be fine.”
Reece started to mutter, “Never underestimate the pow–”
“Shut up!” Emma snapped.
“Ready guys? Let’s go,” said Oscar as the group approached the door.
This is where Ishy stepped forward and put his computer geekiness to work. He had spent all day looking up different ways to pick locks via different websites and video tutorials. After watching every tutorial known to man he was convinced he could easily pick a lock using his pen, and he did just that: in a matter of seconds. Oscar had to admit, it was rather impressive.
“Ta-da!” he bragged as the door swung open.
This all seemed a bit too easy and too good to be true, but the others certainly weren’t going to complain.
Oscar turned on his torch as the gang gingerly crept into the shop. Ishy stupidly slammed the door behind them which made the others jump.
“Ishy!” snapped Emma.
“Oh yeah, sorry,” Ishy replied.
After a few angry glares towards Ishy, the friends slowly made their way through the shop. There was still an unpleasant stench but certainly not anything considered life-threatening.
They crept into the back room, where Miss Primrose kept all her stock. It was an unpleasant sight to say the least. There were jars of sugar coated toenails and toffee covered teeth. There were glass jars stuffed with snake skins, jars bursting with rotten eggs, candy floss that looked more like the hair of the elderly. Everywhere they looked there were containers brimming with the most repulsive ‘sweets’ you can imagine, and there were plenty of worms in jars – worms everywhere.
“I think I’m going to be sick,” said Ishy as he took in all the disgusting sights.
“Just what is she up to?” Emma muttered.
Suddenly from the top of the shelves, Miss Primrose’s cat leapt down and started to stare down the four friends. The cat’s fur puffed up on its back and it began to hiss and the kids started to slowly back away.
“Someone give it a treat!” cried Reece.
“Don’t be silly. Even the cat knows not to eat any treats from this place!” replied Emma.
The cat began to cough, almost as if it was struggling to breathe. But most shocking of all was the voice that appeared to come from the cat’s mouth. “Ugh! Hair ball! Yuck!” The cat gagged.
“Okay guys, just so we’re all clear and all on the same page – the cat just spoke, right?” muttered Reece.
The others didn’t respond. They didn’t have to; their faces showed their utter shock.
“Thought so,” added Reece.
“Did you just talk?” Oscar asked.
“Sorry, I know I should have more manners but you have no idea how uncomfortable these things are,” the cat said.
“What is going on?” Emma muttered in panic.
“Don’t you recognise your favourite shopkeeper?” the cat asked.
“Mr McNulty, is that you?” Oscar moved closer to the cat.
“Yes.”
10
“YOU’RE A CAT!” CRIED ISHY.
“Well spotted, old chum! I was wondering what all this fur was,” replied Mr McNulty.
“I think what Ishy is trying to get at is…why are you a cat?” Emma asked politely.
“She’s a witch!” shouted Mr McNulty. “She did this to me. She wanted to buy my shop from me – I told her it’s not for sale and the next thing I know, she turned me into a cat!”
“I knew something wasn’t right about her!” said Oscar.
“You have to stop her! She hates children! She wants to take over every sweet shop in the world! I can’t stand it. When I saw her try and force that frog’s eye down dear Emma, I had to intervene, I had to do something!” explained Mr McNulty.
“You stopped her from making me eat it,” Emma said with a smile.
“But why does she want to take over all the sweet shops?” asked Reece.
“She blames sweets and sugar for children being happy, for children laughing, for children dancing, for children playing and everything. She won’t rest until every child in the world is miserable, qu
iet, only speaks when spoken to and does exactly what they’re told,” explained Mr McNulty. “I fear what’s next in her plan.”
“That monster,” Ishy said as he wiped a tear from his face.
“How do we stop her?” asked Oscar.
“Go to your parents or to the head teacher. We all need to come up with a plan to stop her,” said Mr McNulty.
“I can’t see our parents buying the whole witch thing,” Reece muttered.
“Well, we have to try. The adults will be the only ones who know how to get rid of a witch,” explained Oscar.
“I suppose they have their uses,” Ishy sighed.
“Make haste, kids! We need to stop her! Quickly! I do have only two more lives in me after all!” sobbed Mr McNulty.
“Two? What happened to the other seven?” Emma asked in alarm.
“Well, the first time, I was so shocked to see myself as a cat, I ran off in a panic and was run over by Mr Mullan’s ice cream van.
“The second time I tried to jump on Miss Primrose and scratch her for turning me into a cat, but she threw me out of the window and I fell head first onto the road.
“Thirdly, straight after my second death, I woke up where I’d landed and was run over by that blasted ice cream van again! So I was three lives down within my first few minutes of feline life.
“The fourth time I was trying to find something edible in this shop when I noticed some bacon on the floor. I couldn’t believe my luck! I soon realised it was Miss Primrose’s trap to catch mice and rats. The bacon was completely covered in rat poison. So after being sick many times, I soon slipped away.
“Fifth time I was put in Miss Primrose’s washing machine and spun around for her entertainment.
“The sixth time I went to the police station – hoping someone would notice me, as I am a talking cat after all! But I ended up getting sat on by a very fat policeman, and what a way to go that was! As for the last time – well I probably shouldn’t say.”
“Oh no. Go on. Tell us?” said Reece.
“Well let’s just say it wasn’t a very pleasant experience being three feet away from an exploding REEKFEST 4000,” Mr McNulty said reluctantly.
“Oh yeah, sorry about that,” said Oscar, rather embarrassed.
Reece turned his attention to Emma. “Never underestimate the power of the REEKFEST 4000,” he said as Emma rolled her eyes.
“Anyway you’ve got no more time to lose! I’ll be here keeping an eye on her. Go and get help,” Mr McNulty said firmly.
“We’ve got to try and talk to our parents, guys. If anyone knows how to get rid of Miss Primrose I bet it’s them!” said Oscar eagerly.
“Worth a shot,” Ishy said.
Next would come the daunting task of trying to have a serious conversation about witches with their parents.
11
EMMA WALKED HOME FEELING sad. She lived at home with her dad but their relationship was a complicated one.
Her mother had died two years ago during a hostile attack on the overseas army base she was working in. Emma’s relationship with her dad had struggled ever since. Emma’s dad, Mr Baker, used the television in their house as an escape. He was constantly glued to his armchair with his huge headphones on, watching whatever – anything and everything: documentaries, news, sports, dramas, game shows… you name it, he watched it.
Emma was used to coming home from school to find her dinner – chicken nuggets, potato waffles and peas – waiting for her in the microwave.
This was all Mr Baker could ever bring himself to do. He loved Emma more than life itself but he was still nursing the broken heart he suffered when he lost his wife.
Emma knew this and accepted it. But deep down she felt she had also lost part of her dad the day she lost her mum. Sometimes late at night she would hear him crying from the pain he felt. She desperately wanted to run to him and comfort him but she knew he didn’t want her to see him like that.
Ever since her mother died, Emma felt she had also lost her home. Her house was still the same but everything that made it home had been missing the last two years. Emma’s only release was music, she was gifted and often played beautiful pieces on the piano when she was sad. It gave her the power to express her emotions, she would love to play something for her dad but he was too busy losing himself in the television.
Sometimes, though, Emma still felt the presence of her mother whenever she was in bed feeling scared, lonely or distressed. She’d cast her eyes to the night-time sky, she’d see the stars strung across the velvety night and think of her mum. This caused the fear and sadness to disappear as if her mother’s spirit was in bed comforting her with a cuddle.
Emma wished she could play music for her dad, she wished she could talk to him about her mother and just at this moment she wished she could talk to him about witches, but she knew it was no use. Mr Baker was incapable of believing.
12
OSCAR WASN’T HAVING any luck himself. It was hard to get through to his mum but for a very different reason. Oscar lived with his mum. His dad lived in Spain with his new wife and children, so Oscar very rarely saw him. Although his mum, Miss Nicola Tarrant, had originally taken the break-up hard, she’d become very passionate about fitness ever since.
Miss Tarrant was a bit ditzy but took enormous pride in her appearance. She was tall and slim with long blonde curly hair. She ran many fitness classes in the local area, including helping the elderly keep fit. If you know of anyone’s granny that goes to Zumba classes, chances are they are instructed by Miss Tarrant.
When she wasn’t running classes, she was on runs. When she wasn’t running, she was at the gym. When she wasn’t at the gym she was doing yoga, which is exactly what she was doing at home right now.
Oscar walked into the lounge where Miss Tarrant was already deep in her ‘yoga zone’.
“Mum, can I speak to you a minute?” asked Oscar.
His mum was in the yoga position known as ‘downward dog’.
She turned her head around slightly and rolled her eyes before taking deep breaths to regain concentration.
“Shouldn’t you be in bed or doing homework or something? It’s getting late now,” she whispered.
“Mum, something really bad is happening and I need to talk to you,” Oscar said firmly, desperately trying to get his mother’s attention.
“We’ll talk later sweetie,” Miss Tarrant sighed.
Oscar knew there was nothing for it. If he was to have any chance of getting his mum’s attention he knew he had to shout, so he cried out, “Mum there’s a witch! A real life witch at Mr McNulty’s sweet shop – she’s serving kids horrible things and has even turned Mr McNulty into a cat!”
There was a brief moment of silence.
“Mum?” prompted Oscar.
“Sweetie, I can’t have any of your negative vibes right now. It’s affecting my energy flow,” said Miss Tarrant.
“Mum, I need to talk!” Oscar shouted.
“Please be quiet sweetie. All you need to do is relax and breathe,” Miss Tarrant said calmly before taking in a deep breath and shortly releasing it out.
“Silence isn’t going to do anything Mum. I need to talk!” cried Oscar.
“Silence is not an absence it is a voluminous presence. Silence speaks with the voices of many and the voice of one. Unbroken, undisturbed, unknowing – silence is: perfection,” quoted Miss Tarrant from one of her yoga tapes.
Oscar knew it was no use. He stormed his way out of the lounge, hoping one of the others was having more luck getting through to their parents.
13
“IT WAS USELESS,” ISHY SAID, shortly after the gang met up the next morning in the playground. “The football was on last night. I’ve never seen the restaurant so busy! Beer and curry everywhere! My sisters were still cleaning up all the mess and sick when I woke up this morning, there was naan bread in the fish tank!”
“Any luck Reece?” Oscar said, hoping for some more positive news.
“Sadly not, guys. It’s my parents’ anniversary this week and they are doing all their stupid romantic things every day. Last night they had a candlelight dinner in the outer conservatory – it was disgusting,” Reece explained, repulsed by the thought.
Just as Reece finished explaining, Emma arrived at school and joined them.
“Emma, please tell me you got some positive info out of your dad?” Oscar said with his fingers crossed.
“Erm well… I–” but before Emma could bring herself to think of an excuse, a familiar and terrifying sight once again appeared in the playground.
It was Miss Primrose. This time not only did Miss Primrose have the megaphone but she also had a whistle around her neck. This she blew continually, until the children lined up in the playground. The kids knew to line up in silence, even the teachers in the school were lined up silently as they all stood to attention.
Miss Primrose smirked before raising the megaphone to her mouth. “Silence!” she yelled, even though the playground was about as silent as a playground could be. “I have an important announcement to make. After my meeting with Mr Fazey recently, we both agreed that the children at this school are a disgrace! Hooligans! Hooligans that must be disciplined. Therefore, as of this morning I am pleased to announce I am the new headmistress of the school!”
The pupils gasped, all too terrified to scream out in protest. The minds of eight hundred school children raced to deal with the news…
Where was Mr Fazey?
Something wasn’t right.
Who is this woman?
What happened to that fat boy who was taken away yesterday?
Will we still get school dinners?
Nobody said a word!
Shock wasn’t the emotion Oscar was feeling. He felt anger. His blood was boiling, his fists were clenched and clammy and they were shaking with his fury. Oscar couldn’t stand it; he had to do something. “She’s a witch!” Oscar yelled. “She’s put a spell on Mr McNulty and you can bet she’s done the same to Mr Fazey!”
Terror at the Sweet Shop Page 3
